


Hooked on a Feeling

by StarryEyesAndSkies



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: I'm sure someone out there will like this, i don't know guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryEyesAndSkies/pseuds/StarryEyesAndSkies
Summary: Mal brings a present home for Duncan. It may or may not be a dead hooker stuffed in the trunk of his car.
Relationships: Duncan/Mal (Total Drama), Duncan/Mike (Total Drama)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58





	Hooked on a Feeling

A/N Yep, I write Malcan fanfiction now. Actually, I also write Mike/Duncan now, which is probably a huge letdown for anyone who’s read my last fic where I just had them as good friends. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I think I might be the only person who ships this, so it’s a party of one over here. Lord have mercy. If you have a sick sense of humor you might like this. I plan on building a whole multi-chaptered backstory for this relationship, but this is just a one-shot. Enjoy. 

Also, for you guys who like really fucked up and sick Malcan stories, this one is pretty lighthearted in comparison, but I’ll be coming out with a really dark story soon. 

Hooked on a Feeling

Duncan stood on his back porch smoking a cigarette and staring up at the stars. It was a rare, quiet evening. No crazy shenanigans or plans with his friends, and Mike was off doing God-knows-what (taking the others with him, obviously). For those few hours, he could sit quietly and reflect, or some hippie shit like that. He had almost finished smoking and considered going back inside when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down at the screen to see Mike’s name. He considered giving him his own ringtone, but that was a bit too cringey for his taste.

“Yep?” 

“Babe.”

That would be Mal, then. 

“Dude, stop calling me babe.”

“Aw, why?”

“Because it’s dumb. I hate it when you do it. Do you want another reason?”

“Fine, whatever. Bitch. Anyways… I have something for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Duncan asked with a note of suspicion as he smothered his cigarette. “What?”

“It’s a present. For you. It’s a surprise.”

Duncan suddenly became very nervous. 

“Where are you?”

“See, I knew you’d answer with some shit like that. Don’t worry. It’s nothing too crazy.”

“What is it?”

“That would ruin the surprise,” he stated as if it were obvious. “Just… come to the driveway.” Mal hung up the phone. 

Duncan really didn’t want to become involved in whatever situation was about to unfold, but against his better judgement, he walked towards the driveway, bracing himself for some sort of horrific scene. He found Mal leaning against his car, arms crossed and a big smile on his face. 

“Hey, there he is!” He beamed. 

“Can you please just tell me what the surprise is?”

“You have to guess first.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Please? I put a lot of effort into this gift!” Mal complained. 

“Fine. Weed?”

“Nope, not special enough.”

“I don’t know… some sort of weapon?”

“You’re not even trying.”

“Just tell me.”

“Alright,” Mal walked over to the trunk. “So, you know how you’ve always wanted to go to Paris?”

“No. Not once have I ever expressed interest in going there.”

“Oh. Then, uh, nevermind,” Mal said quickly. “Surprise is cancelled.”

“Did you book a flight to Paris or something?”

“No, but… are you sure you don’t want to go there? I could’ve sworn you said that at some point. Last week.”

“Oh, was it the day we took those edibles?”

“Yeah, and you cried for like three hours-”

“You don’t have to bring it up. I probably said a lot of stuff, maybe I mentioned going to Paris. You know what? Sure. Let’s go. This is a good surprise.”

“Ah… I haven’t shown you the surprise yet.”

“I thought the surprise was that we were going to France.”

“Nah… the surprise was the…” he mumbled the rest of his words so Duncan couldn’t hear. 

“The what? I can’t hear you.”

“I said the surprise was the dead hooker in my trunk! There, are you happy?”

Duncan took a deep breath and stepped back. 

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No,” Mal said with a straight face. “That’s the surprise.”

“Mal,” Duncan ran his hands through his hair. “If you open up your trunk and there’s a dead hooker in there, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“Then let’s not open it.”

“Well, now I think we have to.”

“Nah,” Mal shrugged. “Let’s just leave it. It’s like Schrodinger's Trunk. You don’t know for sure if there’s a dead hooker in my car unless you check, so let’s just leave this one. Chalk it up to a mystery.”

Duncan stared at him and took two strides towards the trunk. Without breaking eye contact, he opened it up. Taking a breath, he forced himself to look inside, where sure enough, there was a dead hooker. 

He slammed the trunk shut and rested his arms against it, taking deep breaths. 

“I can’t believe… did you kill her?”

“What? No, I just found her like that,” Mal explained. 

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” Duncan decided. “I mean… you’re going to jail for this.”

“Why?”

“You stole a dead body!”

“Stole it from who, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… if you steal something, that means it belonged to someone else, right? But who did she belong to?”

“I don’t know, God?”

“Then I’ll take it up with Him. No biggie.”

“This is a huge biggie! This is a massive fucking biggie over here! Oh, I’m gonna be sick,” Duncan staggered away from the car. 

“I told you not to check,” Mal insisted. 

“Wait, how does this relate to Paris?”

“What?”

“You said you brought a gift that was related to Paris somehow. This hooker has nothing to do with that city.”

“Oh. Well, that’s her name. Paris.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. At least, that’s what I decided to call her. Paris. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think it has a nice ring to it. You can’t just do this, steal bodies from off the street. Where’d you even find her?” Duncan scanned the bushes, making sure none of the neighbors were hearing this conversation. 

“Well, I was driving- actually, Mike was driving near the coast. And we got to this dark, wooded part. He saw this thing in the middle of the road, and it turned out to be a woman. Now, he started freaking out and wanted to call the police, take her to a hospital, whatever. But look, Paris was clearly dead, so I figured we may as well bring her back here. Now, Mike really didn’t want to do that.”

“Of course not. It’s a felony.”

“Exactly. So I told him to put her in the trunk and I’d drive to a hospital. Because, you know, he drives like a bitch, and I’d actually get her to a hospital quickly. But then I started thinking. If she’s dead, then there’s nothing we can even do. Even if she sees a doctor. So, I made a quick detour and decided to surprise you. Ta-da.”

“How did you know she was a hooker?”

“She was carrying a sign.”

“Really?”

“No, idiot. I just inferred. She didn’t have an ID or wallet or anything with her.”

“Are you sure she’s even dead?” Duncan ignored the jab at his intelligence. 

“Yeah. Probably. I mean, she’s been in that trunk for a while, so if she wasn’t before, then she definitely is now.”

“Well, did you check for a pulse? Maybe she’s still alive, we can bring her to a hospital,” Duncan opened the trunk and reached down to grab her wrist, but Mal quickly stopped him.

“What are you doing? Do you want to leave behind evidence? Here…” he opened the passenger door of his car and tossed Duncan a pair of latex gloves. 

“Do you always have these with you?” Duncan asked as he pulled on the gloves and felt for a pulse. 

“Manitoba likes to keep wilderness survival kits in the car.”

“Ah.” He felt Paris’ wrist, but couldn’t find anything. Upon closer examination, it appeared that she had been dead for some time. Her lips were blue, her skin was pale, and her blonde hair was covered in dirt and sticks. 

“Well?” Mal asked him. 

“Nothing,” Duncan sighed and let go of her wrist. 

“Excellent,” Mal clapped his hands. “See? She didn’t have a chance. Nothing I could have done anyways.”

“So… what do we do with her?”

“Huh?” Mal stopped smiling. 

“What was your plan here? You take her back here and then what?”

“Oh,” Mal rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think of that. I only planned up to the big reveal.”

“Great, so you have no idea what to do with her.”

“It would appear not. I guess I was going to take her to a hospital, but now all that talk about felonies makes me not want to do it.”

“Well, we could probably just drive her back and leave an anonymous tip or something.” 

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved. Duncan still hadn’t closed the trunk as he stared at Paris’ face, and Mal just kicked at the ground. 

“I kind of want spaghetti,” Mal announced. 

“Me too,” Duncan agreed. “And to be honest with you, I feel bad about Paris’ demise…”

“I was thinking the exact same thing! To be found alone, abandoned on the side of the road like that…”

“I mean- and stop me if this is disrespectful- but perhaps we should let her eat dinner with us? Kind of like a final farewell.”

“A way to honor her,” Mal nodded his head. 

“Because I’m really hungry, so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if she waits, like, twenty minutes.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Good, we’re on the same page. Help me carry her?”

“I’ll put on my gloves.”

Unfortunately, both Mal and Duncan underestimated the amount of strength required to move Paris into the house. They tried to get a good grip on her, but her skin was kind of wet, so she kept slipping. Finally, they settled on a system. Duncan grabbed her wrists, while Mal took her ankles. They managed to reach the door in the garage leading into the house when Mal dropped her, forcing Duncan to set her down on the concrete floor. 

“Dude,” Duncan glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“How are we gonna open the door? One of us has to hold it open or it’ll close by itself.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess one of us can hold the door and the other can drag her by the wrists.”

“Cool. Dibs on holding the door,” Mal declared. 

“Bullshit. I’m holding the door.”

“You’re stronger, you should do it. “

“Don’t flatter me. You brought her here, you’re dragging her by the wrists.”

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it. Loser has to drag her inside.”

“You know you’re going to win. So the weaker person is the one who’s doing the heavy lifting? That makes no sense,” Duncan crossed his arms. 

“Well, I’m not doing it,” Mal glared.

“I’m not doing it either,” Duncan glared back. Neither of them were making a move. 

“Get one of the alters to do it?” Duncan proposed. 

“Who? Mike? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

“Vito can do it. He’s the strongest.”

“Fine,” Mal sighed. “But you know you’ll have to trick him so he doesn’t freak out,” he started to take off his shirt. 

“Got it.”

“Woah woah, the fuck is this!?” Vito had appeared and rapidly gestured to Paris, who was still sprawled out on the floor. 

“Oh, that’s Paris. I need you to carry her inside.”

“Bro. Duncan. What is this chick doing on the floor?”

“She fell asleep, and we need to get her inside.”

“Is she a hooker? Woah, bro, are you cheatin’? Cause I don’t stand for that shit.”

“No, Vito,” Duncan rolled his eyes. “I’m not cheating, and if I was, why would I do it with you standing right there?”

“Huh. Alright. I guess you’re good. Yeah, I’ll move her. But wait, why am I wearing gloves?”

Shit. He didn’t think of that.

“Oh. It’s a new fashion thing. You’re just keeping on the trends.”

“Oh, hell yeah! Alright, get the door, I’ll bring her inside.”

Duncan did as he was told while Vito heaved Paris over his shoulders and carried her through the doorway. Duncan had no idea how he was that strong, while his and Mal’s combined efforts could barely move Paris ten feet, but as long as Vito got the job done, Duncan didn’t mind. 

“Oh, and Mike wants to speak with you,” Vito mentioned as he set Paris down in a chair. “Sounded pissed,” he started to put his shirt back on. 

“I’m sure.”

“Duncan!” 

“Hey, Mike,” Duncan smiled. 

“Listen, Mal wanted to bring this dead woman back here, and I begged him not to, but-” his eyes fell upon Paris sprawled out in her chair. “Oh my God,” he took a step back. “I’m gonna throw up. Why is she here?”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave her in the trunk.”

“Really?” Mike narrowed his eyes. 

“Alright, fine, I wanted spaghetti, Mal also wanted spaghetti, and we figured Paris could just wait a couple of minutes before we dumped her body back on the side of the road.”

“Who’s Paris?”

“Her. The hooker,” Duncan gestured in Paris’ direction.

“Woah, she’s a hooker?” Mike’s eyes widened. He had never met one before. “Wait, don’t distract me. I can’t believe this is happening. We’re going to jail. Oh, God,” he started to hyperventilate as he sat down at the kitchen table. “What do we do? We have to call the police-”

“No way. Absolutely not. Listen, this isn’t a huge deal. We just have to bring her back where you found her, leave an anonymous tip or something, and we’re golden.”

“Can’t the police trace that?”

“Then we can just put her back and pretend like nothing ever happened.”

“No… I can’t-”

“Look, take some deep breaths or something. I’m gonna boil some water.”

While Mike pulled himself together, Duncan shuffled throughout the kitchen, lighting the stove, filling up a pot of water, and grabbing a box of spaghetti from the pantry. Usually, Duncan would do the cooking, but Mike always stepped up when it came to spaghetti. The directions were simple, just boil water and toss in the noodles, but for some reason, Mike always managed to make it taste better. Duncan always undercooked or burned it, but Mike timed it perfectly. It must be in his genetics or something. As he pondered his lack of spaghetti skills, Duncan felt Mike standing behind him. 

“It’s done,” Mike noted. 

“See?” Duncan spun around to face him. “How did you know that?”

“I dunno, I just do,” he shrugged. “You need more practice, babe,” he winked. 

“Ok, have you been telling Mal to call me that? I hate it.”

“Aw, why? I think it’s cute,” Mike pouted. 

“Come up with something else,” Duncan insisted as he poured the spaghetti into a strainer, then a bowl. “And grab some bowls.”

Duncan began to walk back towards the kitchen table when he remembered Paris was still sitting there. 

“Actually, bring an extra bowl.”

“For the hooker?” Mike whispered ‘hooker’ like it was a swear as he walked back, avoiding Paris as much as possible. 

“Yeah. I feel kind of bad leaving her there without one.” He took a bowl from Mike and scooped some spaghetti for her, sliding it towards her as they all sat down at the kitchen table. 

“Did I mention that I really hate this whole situation?” Mike asked as he twirled some spaghetti on a fork, purposely refusing to look at Paris’ face.

“I’m sure she hates it even more. Hey, Paris, aren’t you going to finish your spaghetti?” Dunan smiled at her, but quickly stopped when Mike started glaring at him. 

“Don’t be mean to her,” Mike whispered. 

“Fine. Maybe her ghost is looking down on us at this very moment.”

“You think?” Mike glanced around the room as if her spirit would jump out at him. 

“Nah.”

“I wonder why they named her Paris?” Mike pondered. 

“Oh, that’s not her real name. At least, that would be a huge coincidence. Mal named her that.”

“What? Why?”

“Apparently I mentioned wanting to go there?”

“Oh, that was me. I thought it would be fun to go. Kind of romantic.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at that. 

“Stop it, don’t bully me. Anyways, he probably thought you said it because, you know, those edibles… which I’m never doing again, by the way. I can’t believe you convinced me to try those.”

“Oh,” Duncan thought about what Mike said as he chewed his spaghetti. “Yeah, we should go.”

“Really?” Mike’s face lit up. 

“Fuck it. Sure. Romance and all that. It could be fun.”

“You know, you don’t have to go just because I want to,” he fidgeted. “It’s fine if you don’t want to-”

“Mike,” Duncan insisted. “I want to go with you. Really. We’ll have a good time.”

“Alright,” Mike smiled. 

“I’d kiss you,” Duncan reassured him, “but I don’t want to disrespect you-know-who,” he tilted his head towards Paris. 

“Can we get her out of here?”

“Sure. Help carry her out?”

“Eh…” Mike glanced at Paris in apprehension. 

“Or Mal can do it.”

“On it!” Mal switched out and stood up, shoving back his chair. “Let’s get this bitch out of here. No offense, Paris,” Mal wolfed down the rest of his spaghetti and pulled on his gloves. 

Getting her back to the car wasn’t as difficult as getting her into the house. Since she was already in a chair, they just tipped her back and dragged the chair towards the door and used it to prop the door open. Duncan went outside first to make sure none of the neighbors were watching. They lived closer to the country (Manitoba insisted that the city was full of danger, and both Duncan and Mike hated running into people who recognized them from Total Drama), so nobody lived too close, but it was always good to be careful. They tried to be quiet when they stuffed her in the trunk, and with Duncan behind the wheel, they started to drive where Mike had originally found her. 

“You know, we did a good thing today,” Mal announced. 

“I really don’t think we did.”

“Sure! We gave Paris some comfort in her dying moments, didn’t we?”

“She was already dead when you found her.”

“We saved her from getting eaten by raccoons? Make a right here.”

“I guess so,” he maneuvered the car. “But aren’t we just putting her back anyways?”

“Duncan, I’m really trying to spin this into a positive, but you’re making it very difficult. Make a left”

“Fine. I guess we gave her a more dignified ending.”

“That’s the spirit. Here we are,” he noted. “Just drive up a bit more… right there. Shut off the headlights.”

It was pitch black outside, but Mal insisted that using any sort of flashlight would be too risky, so Duncan grappled around in the dark as Mal opened the trunk. 

“Ok, how are we doing this?” Duncan asked. “Do we just… drop her?”

“I mean, I guess so. That’s how I found her. It's definitely this exact spot.” He grabbed an ankle. “Help me out?”

“Hm? Oh, sure,” Duncan helped to heave Paris out of the trunk. “I feel bad tossing her out like this.”

“Well, that’s how they left her,” Mal dropped his half down, prompting Duncan to do the same. They both stared at her laying there. 

“Do you want to say a few words?” Mal asked him. 

“Um. Goodbye, Paris.”

“Wow, Shakespeare over here.”

“Let’s just get out of here. I don’t want anyone to see us,” Duncan glared. 

“Fine. I’ll drive,” Mal made his way over to the driver’s side, quietly shutting the door behind him. Duncan followed close behind, settling into the passenger's seat. They began the drive home in silence.

“You know,” Mal cleared his throat. “It’s a good thing we aren’t complete fucking psychos.”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, think about it. Somebody else in our shoes might have raped her, or sold her organs, or some other sick shit, but we just gave her dinner.”

“Huh. I guess so.”

“We’re good guys,” Mal nodded his head. “This proves it.”

“I didn’t think about it like that,” Duncan conceded. 

“Well, it’s all in how you look at it. You have to keep a positive outlook. That’s what I always do.”

“I’m sure,” Duncan stared out the window, watching as dark blurs of trees passed him by. “Wait, it’s really dark out. How can you see?”

“Shit. I forgot to turn the headlights back on,” Mal flicked the switch, lighting up the road ahead of him. 

“You really are the worst driver.”

“I know. At least I didn’t kill another hooker just now.”

“So you killed her!?” Duncan sat up and stared at him.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Mal smiled. “I didn’t kill her. I promise.”

“Good,” Duncan glared at him before sitting back in his seat. 

“I would never.”


End file.
